Philoillogica

Not another white teen movie

I have long since come to the conclusion that I am what my grandmother's generation would call, if we lived in New England and had a crystal pickle dish, "fickle."  Regardless of what I claim to want - tenure, a hot chocolate, a dog, the third volume of Pollard and Redgrave's Short Title Catalogue, sweet peas to be available longer than two weeks in May - I will change my mind almost immediately after making a declaration of my desire to anyone else.

"Uh, no..." I say to the waitress' back. "I mean, I really want a coffee. With milk. Please."

Aside from probably consuming more spit in restaurants than any other human being alive, this fickleness isn't much of a problem for me, except as it seems to encourage my extravagant, ingenious and copious bouts of procrastination.  I've written before about how grad students have two types of days - reading days and writing days - and, given my fickleness, it is unsurprising that on one type of day, I'm always enchanted with the activities I'm supposed to do on others. 

When I'm writing a paper - an activity that usually sends me into paroxysms of mutually reinforcing bravado and self-doubt - the idea of simply, passively reading is gloriously appealing.  It can be done in the bathtub, for instance, or on the sofa.  It does not involve stressing out over the use of a semicolon, or desperately wondering how I have managed to endure eight years of post-secondary education without ever owning a stapler.  Reading does not promote carpal tunnel syndrome or the attending risks associated with staring at a computer screen for hours on end (like becoming addicted to online Risk, or being caught up in an an msn debate over the ethics of asking your spouse to cut your toenails).  No, when I'm supposed to be writing, reading is the Elysian Fields of study - glorious, golden and reached only by the dead (which is what I'd be if I didn't finish my paper).

However, when it's reading that I'm supposed to be doing, all other activities become sirens of worldly delight, eagerly wafting me forward toward luxurious paradises the likes of which my bookish folios cannot hope to replicate. 

Mmmmm.  Laundry.  The very word is bewitchingly sensual, the long diphthong belying its utilitarian practicality.  Laaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhndry.  Aaaaaah.  There are smells, routines, buzzes, the sound of running water and the churn-churn-churning of life. 

The book just lays there, corpse of the tree that it is.

You can rationalize anything when you're procrastinating - and I do.

So, in my efforts to avoid making yesterday a useful reading day in any way, shape or form, I stumbled across a StarTV special on "The 25 Greatest Teen Movies of All Time."

Well.  Forget Othello. Forget the delicates.  Now we're talking.

So I watched the show, which was one of those easily-produced, fragmentary works consisting of a handful of clips from the movies being discussed interspersed with talking head shots of "hip" Canadians that I'm supposed to recognize.  George "thoroughly too irritating for television" Strombolopolous was (of course) featured heavily, as were a handful of MuchMusic's fair folk and the odd comedian or two.

According to Omnipresent George and co., these are the 25 best teen movies of all time:

25. Some Kind of Wonderful
24. 10 Things I Hate About You
23. Beach Blanket Bingo
22. Risky Business
21. Scream
20. Rebel Without a Cause
19. Can't Buy Me Love
18. Dazed and Confused
17. Mean Girls
16. American Pie
15. Boyz in the Hood
14. American Graffiti
13. Bring it On
12. Election
11. River's Edge
10. Bend it Like Beckham
9. Pretty in Pink
8. Pump Up the Volume
7. The Outsiders
6. Clueless
5. Heathers
4. Ferris Bueller's Day Off
3. Say Anything...
2. The Breakfast Club
1. Fast Times at Ridgemont High

Now for the most part, I agreed with their choices - it is unbelievably refreshing that the venerable Breakfast Club was not given first place, and Pump Up the Volume and Heathers have all but dropped out of popular memory.  Remember when Christian Slater was hot?  Remember when they could actually make teen comedies about murder and suicide without "family values" groups getting up in arms about it?

But they really dropped the ball on a couple. Bring it On as number 13?  Puh-leeze!  Can't Buy Me Love on the list at all? Are you people mad?  Bend it Like Beckham - a teen movie?  Ditto Boyz in the Hood - these to me qualify as films in a completely different genre.  A "teen movie" in my books should be fluff or angst, cathartic, not thought-provoking.  Get scared, get mad, get laid - these are the goals of a teen movie, not a detailed examination of the immigrant experience or race-relations intended to provoke a dialogue.  I like those films, but that's exactly it - they're FILMS.  Teen movies are just popcorn-crunching, second-base vehicles almost exclusively concerned with kids in middle-class, white America.  It takes a herculean effort of willful ignorance to pretend that Boyz in the Hood is in the same genre as American Pie simply because they both have characters around the same age.

I wonder if Beckham and Boyz were simply added to StarTV's list to hide the fact that the incredibly successful "teen movie" genre is almost universally race-exclusive.  Remember the beginning of Scary Movie when they're in the movie theatre watching a send-up of Scream, and one of the Wayans brothers starts complaining about how a character's about to be murdered because he's the "token black guy" and the token black guy always has to be the first to die? 

It's true.  When they appear at all, the black guy (or girl) always does have to be the first to die.  S/He's never allowed to be the hero/ine, always the sidekick, and in romantic couplings must only ever be be romantically paired with another "token" black person, just like Chuck and Nancy in the Archie comics.  Witness Clueless, where Dionne and Murray are naturally paired and their blackness is not addressed beyond Murray's affectation of "ghetto speak" offending Dionne's upper-class sensibilities.   Race, by and large, is not an issue in "teen movies" beyond offering the opportunity for yet-another joke at someone else's expense, and it is simply inane to pretend that the genre is progressive and insightful beyond its intended audience.

If that weren't honestly the case, why didn't StarTV offer any other "progressive" teen movies on the list? Save the Last Dance offered a black male and white female pair of  protagonists,the heroine at one point being accused of "stealing" a "good black man" from his sisters.  In Dance, Julia Stiles' character struggles (albeit not much) with her fall from privilege after her mother's death, going from a mostly white private school to an inner-city, public one and struggling with her new position of racial outsider. 

Stand and Deliver, perhaps the best (and only) movie about calculus ever made, sees Edward James Olmos  as an inner-city teacher telling his mostly Hispanic students that math is in their blood - their ancestors, the Mayans, invented algebra.  Math, offered here not as a European gift to "lesser peoples", but as an appropriated indigenous cultural product, is a way to reclaim self-respect and birthright in an oppressive and undeniably racist world.  The film won six Independent Spirit awards, and was nominated both for an Oscar and two Golden Globes.  Why wasn't this considered a great teen movie?

I know why.  Because when we say "teen movie" we mean "white teen movie."   It is a genre that is specific, like many others, to certain groups of people at a certain time in their lives.  But just as The American Film Institute's 100 Best Movie Lines almost completely ignored people of colour (and women ), the teen movie is about, for, and starring white kids.  StarTV's lame attempt to state otherwise is a desperate effort to claim multiculturalism where none exists, a reverse white-washing account designed to stave off criticism.

But not only that.  Even if you can put the racism (and sexism, but that's another story) inherent in the form aside for 90 minutes of titties, beer and toilet humour, witness what StarTV managed to overlook in its top 25 "White Teen Movies" of all time:

Grease (1978)
Remember when Travolta was hot?  C'mon, admit it: you still know the words to "We Go Together", don't you?

Back to the Future (1985)
"Why don't you just make like a tree, and get outta here?"

Porky's (1982)
Still the #1 grossing Canadian film ever made - $101.5 million in 1982.  That's $220 million today.  Without Porky's, there would've been no American Pie, no Revenge of the Nerds.  It was the first.

Carrie (1976)
"They're all going to laugh at you." Thank you, Stephen King, for proving that high school is hell.

Dirty Dancing (1987)
The ultimate slumber party movie for the next ten years.  "Nobody puts Baby in a corner."

Romeo + Juliet (1996, dir. Luhrmann)
I didn't like it, but a hell of a lot of people did.  Guns, glitz, grit and the Bard's quintessential tale of teendom.

West Side Story (1961)
As above, but in a musical. 

Footloose (1984)
A city boy comes to a small town where music and dancing have been banned by hyper-pious fundamentalists.  Kevin Bacon before he earned his six degrees: "I thought only pansies wore neckties."  "See that? I thought only assholes used the word "pansy."

Sixteen Candles (1984)
"I can't believe my grandmother actually felt me up."

Rushmore (1998)
"Maybe I'm spending too much of my time starting up clubs and putting on plays. I should probably be trying harder to score chicks."

Adventures in Babysitting (1987)
"Nobody leaves here until they sing the blues."

To the person who found my blog after asking Jeeves, "is there any hope left from the bastards of skeleteens?"

Yes.  There is always hope.

Kudos, laurels, curtesies and firstborn

...nicely done, this:

Live 8 organizers shocked the world last week when they announced that the Canadian edition of the July 2 concert would be held in Barrie-a stunning one hour drive north of Toronto.

Those for whom the concert is supposed to be raising...awareness have expressed their sympathy for the poor, beleaguered Torontonians who will have to travel outside of the city to see Bryan Adams et al. churn out the crap this Saturday.

Speaking from one of the numerous UN camps set up in neighbouring Chad, dozens of malnourished survivors of the Sudanese government's genocidal rampage in the Darfur region expressed their outrage that the Canadian version of the pseudo-benefit concert will take place in Barrie, and not Toronto.

"These poor people will have to drive an hour north of the city, on a long weekend, to see the concert? I cannot believe this injustice to the residents of this majestic, world-class city. Think of all the lost souvenir sales for the city's merchants," said Amina Dilal, 22, whose entire extended family was slaughtered by janjaweed bandits during a bloody massacre earlier this year in her village.

"Why, I can't believe that the concert is not being held in Toronto," added Gabriel Mulanga, another Darfur refugee who has not had access to potable drinking water or adequate sanitation in nearly a year. "It just doesn't make sense. What is the point of even having the concert? Nobody will be made aware of the fact that 30,000 children around the world die every day die from extreme poverty if the concert's not held in Toronto."

I'm so touched by...their humanity.  It's so nice of them to <sniff> care about our welfare.  And the tickets were given away so fast too, there's some of us who won't even get to go at all.  We'll have to watch it from our climate-controlled housing, reclining comfortably on our third-world-produced furniture, securely wrapped in our own self-righteousness as we drink bottled water and relish in our low child mortality rate.  I tell you - it just isn't fair.

<sniff>

"What? They gave you fake money? Our official money says, 'Canadian Tire' on it, like this. You can only use the stuff with the Queen on it at a hardware store, but it just so happens that I need some hardware, so I'll take it off your hands."

From Instant Messenger, 06/29/05:

Joshua Then and Now. says:
Well, I'm getting hungry, so I think I'm going to have to go scam a tourist.  They're so easy to scam, and they're sailing out of here anyway.

felix culpa says:
What?

Joshua Then and Now. says:
Maybe I can get a Texan to buy me lunch.

Joshua Then and Now. says:
Oh, this town is crawling with cruise ship passengers right now.  I'm sort of kidding.

felix culpa says:
How do you do this?

Joshua Then and Now. says:
Well, you dress up as a loyalist and pretend to be leading a tour.  You collect your money, lead them down an alley, and disappear...

Harper's Media: slaying her children to get back at her husband

Sigh.  Another day, another front-page article about same-sex marriage.

You have to wonder what goes on in the mind of the Globe's editors, as they sit around trying to figure out how to best illustrate each story on the front page. 

"Well, our main focus this week is on the things Canada does best, and today's feature is on acoustic guitar-building...hmmm...how should we illustrate this...what to do...what to do..."

"I know!" pipes up a junior editor who'd heretofore been relegated to the Careers section.  "Let's put a picture of somebody building a guitar!"

"Brilliant!" shrieks Mark Stevenson, the national editor, getting up to enthusiastically pat the newbie on the back.  "What an amazingly refreshing idea - actively illustrating an article with a relevant photo!  Now if only we can think of something for this same-sex marriage article..."

And a wealth of options floods in from the photo room - last week was Pride, so shots of happy homosexual couples abound, as do the ubiquitous marriage shots of clasped hands, wedding bells, etc. Someone points out that since this vote happens in Ottawa, they could stick up a photo of Parliament Hill, or maybe an overhead shot of the Commons.  "Good ideas, all," says Mark Stevenson.  "But I have a much better idea..." 

And that's how we get this:

Once again, the Globe and Mail shows its reactionary bias by offering, in an accompanying, above-the-fold photo, a pensive Stephen Harper.  His quotation immediately beneath reads: "I think because this bill is only being passed with the support of the BQ, I think it will lack legitimacy with most Canadians.  The truth is most federalist MPs will oppose this legislation."

Notwithstanding the fact that this statement reads like a flouncing four-year-old picking up his toys and running away ("Don't want to play my MY rules? Well, I'm taking my trucks back!), notwithstanding the fact that it immediately suggests, as Jack Layton aptly pointed out, that Harper doesn't consider Quebeckers' votes real votes, anymore than he considers a commitment between same-sex partners real enough to extend legal protection to, with this statement Harper manages to completely invalidate any and all hopes he ever has for uniting with the Bloc to level any future challenge to the Liberal minority government. 

Hm...I seem to recall Harper really liking the Bloc, when they threatened to thwart the budget.  I guess Harper must've figured that since Duceppe and Co. went along with the Conservatives' "stall the Liberals on any account" game (seemingly played with all the rules of Calvinball), that the two parties would soon split one of those "Best Friends Forever" charm bracelets and sleep over at each other's houses every Friday night.  He'd even picked out some new fleur-de-lis wallpaper for the guest room in Stornoway.  And now look at him, poor, poor Harper, left friendless and mopey on the front page of the Globe with only his trucks and white man's privilege to keep him company.

Maybe he should go find poor, poor Peter MacKay.  The two of them have a lot in common - at least, the Globe and Mail, the last chronicle of broken-hearted powerful men, seems to think so.

The sound of one hand clapping

Dunno how I missed this, but the BBC reported on Thursday that UK universities have signed a charter to address gender inequalities in their science, technology and engineering departments.

A University of East Anglia study earlier this year showed that men still occupy the majority of key positions in UK academic science.

It recently estimated that about 50,000 women scientists are not using the sciences and engineering qualifications they gained, even though these skills are considered vital to the UK economy.

Only a third go back to jobs related to their skills after time away from work.

Many take time away to have children but face barriers when trying to return to the science, engineering and technology industries, generally.

The six-point charter is designed to "bring about cultural change in academia" and "recognize, celebrate and publicise" the good practices that already exist in supporting women's role in the SET (science, engineering and technology) fields.  While very general, the charter recognizes the importance of implementing change through an examination of cultural values and attitudes that hinder women's advancement at nearly all levels of their professional progress, from PhD completion to job security.  What's missing is an examination of women's academic progress - the features preventing women from originally considering SET studies, or preventing them from completing programs already begun.

1. To address gender inequalities requires commitment and action from everyone, at all levels of the organisation

2. To tackle the unequal representation of women in science requires changing cultures and attitudes across the organisation

3. The high loss rate of women in science is an urgent concern, which the organisation will address

4. The use of short-term contracts has particularly negative consequences for the retention and progression of women in science, which the university recognises

5. The transition from PhD into a sustainable academic career in science can be particularly difficult for women and requires active consideration by the organisation

6. The absence of diversity at management and policy-making levels has broad implications which the organisation will examine      

I'm a bit torn about all of this.  I want to believe that this is a genuine effort here, unlike Harvard's $50 million in hush money, but part of me wonders why it took a women's group specifically designed to address gender inequality to realize that women weren't meeting with success in SET academe.  Surely huge groups of women missing in the ranks of administrators and grant holders, professors and researchers should've tipped somebody off?  Or are men in the technological fields only aware of missing women when they're looking for somebody to type out a letter or get them a sandwich?

Signing a contract to think about things makes a lovely photo opportunity, but behind the optics it simply reveals a lazy attitude towards gender equality.  "Yeah sure, we'll care about women in science...if you draw up a charter, display the research that proves why we should, and lay out our game plan for all future endeavours." 

Equally troubling is the involvement of the Athena Project, an organization which claims to "promote the careers of women in science, engineering and technology in higher education (HE) and research and to achieve a significant increase in the number of women recruited to top posts" but which seems to engage in a bewildering display of self-congratulatory back-patting for a group only begun in 1999.  Athena's "achievements" for the years 1999-2001 consist of "encouraging good practice" amongst its member universities, while recent years' successes consist of "recognizing good practice."  In 2003, we're told, 28 universities "piloted Athena's good practices checklist", implying, of course, that signing things (or "piloting" them, whatever that means) is sufficient action to be recognized for fighting gender inequality.  In other words, no worries about actually *doing* anything, just look busy and we'll give you a little plaque to staple to a department head's blazer that says "Ask me about our new deal for women."

But there really isn't much of a new deal at all, so much as there's a promise to maybe start thinking about one, or at least a promise to really make an effort to try to start.  Provided, of course, that the boardroom has sandwiches, and somebody else draws up the agenda, does the talking, and circles where universities and administrators sign on the dotted line.

Monday Miscellany

Did you know...

...that Paul Winchell, the voice of Tigger, not only died yesterday, but that he was also an inventor with a patent for a prototype artificial heart he built in the 1960s, as well as the creator of an"invisible" garter belt, a flameless cigarette lighter and an early version of the disposable razor...

...that Hitler's royalties for Mein Kampf are still flowing in, but the state of Bavaria, who owns the rights, refuses payment...

...that a "7.6-metre-tall, 16-tonne treat of frozen Snapple unexpectedly quickly melted in the midday sun Tuesday, flooding Union Square in downtown Manhattan with pink fluid that sent pedestrians scurrying for higher ground"...

...that a third of Canadians who've read The Da Vinci Code believe it to be true (sigh)...

...that Michael "Lord of the Dance" Flatley will soon be starting a world tour that makes "Riverdance look like a bicycle compared to the Concorde"...

...that Tom Cruise is still an idiot...

...that "A 13-year-old girl has become the youngest author to be published in South Africa's main medical journal for her research on 'PlayStation thumb' "...

Well, now you do.

Renaissance Dramatic Comp: Romeo and Juliet

The Chorus opens the drama with a summation of what will follow: the tragedy of two 'star-crossed lovers' caught in an 'ancient grudge,' whose lives will end their 'death-marked love.'  From there we enter into 'fair Verona', smack-dab into a rivalry between the servants of the Capulets and those of the Montagues, a rivalry that has been rising in scale in recent weeks.  After Benvolio and Tybalt become involved, the old Patriarchs get in the act, prompting Prince Escalus to declare that any further fights will result in death.  Everyone scatters except the Montagues, who wonder where Romeo's got hisself at these days.  Benvolio agrees to search him out, and finds Romeo, who's wandering around like Hamlet, with his stockings all ungartered, etc. lovesick for one Rosaline.  This does not seem like a good idea at all for Benvolio, who is convinced that Romeo needs to do away with this whole love thing, or at least find a better gal to pine over.

Meanwhile, Capulet is in marriage negotiations with county Paris, the Prince's kinsman.  He offers Juliet's hand, cautioning that, since she's only fourteen, there's really no rush.  Paris, however, wants to tap that ass right now, and manages to convince both Capulet parents that fourteen is plenty old enough to get jiggy with it, 'specially at that party at the Capulet pad that very night.  An illiterate serving-man charged with delivering invitations for said party hails Romeo and Benvolio for help, and they discover what's on.  "Aha!" thinks Benvolio – "this is exactly what Romeo needs to get his mind off Rosaline!"  Since everybody'll be in masks – it's an Eyes Wide Shut kind of party, evidently – they decide to go, stopping only for a weird series of dirty puns and Mercutio's homoerotic lustings after Romeo thinly veiled as misogynistic "fairy" bashing.  Despite the sexy mask, Tybalt spots Romeo and wants to get all up in his shit, but Capulet the Man forbids it.  Romeo spots Juliet, and Rosaline's just one long forgotten noho from that point forward.  There's some sexy language in a sonnet, and the two share a kiss, 'natch.  The party ends, and the two go off to discover that they were sucking face with the enemy.  End of Act One.

Enter the Chorus again, for the last time, redundantly telling everybody that what just happened was *unfortunate.*  Fated so, in fact.  Leaving the party, Romeo doubles back to find Juliet appropriately mooning about on one of those Juliet balconies, sighing and heaving her bosoms in a fetching manner.  They declare eternal love and promise to share the blankets forever in a way that enables Hallmark to sell a lot of crap.  Juliet promises Romeo that she will send a messenger to him the next day to discover where and when they should meet next.  Romeo hits up Friar Lawrence on the way home and gets him to agree to marry him and Juliet later that day.  He chases up his homies and they have another linguistic homoerotic circle jerk until the Nurse arrives to get the word on what's going on.  She's fat, and this is apparently very funny for the next two scenes, especially when Juliet is trying to squeeze the goods from her inane mind about Romeo.  End of Act Two.

Mercutio, Benvolio and some other dudes are meandering around while Romeo and Juliet are getting hitched, and they encounter Tybalt, who supposedly fights like a girly Spaniard and still wants to get all up in Romeo's shit.  Romeo wanders in, and Tybalt has at him, but Romeo blows him off (and not in the good way like Mercutio wants, neither).  Mercutio's pissed, and attacks Tybalt shrieking that he's a cheese-eating surrender monkey, and, after Romeo tries to break it up, manages to get himself stabbed.  Tybalt runs away and Mercutio curses everybody and dies offstage.  Realizing too late that Mercutio was his one shot to have a really hot three-way, Romeo chases after Tybalt and stabs him.  Then HE runs away, avoiding the thronging public and a really pissed Prince who immediately banishes Romeo to Mantua.  Meanwhile, a very horny Juliet has been waiting for the sun to go down so Romeo could come back and they could get their rocks off.  The Nurse comes in to tell her about Tybalt's death and Romeo's banishment, and Juliet goes bananas in grief and sexual frustration.  The Nurse takes off to Friar Lawrence to try to find Romeo, and sure enough, he's there, moping over Mercutio.  Friar Lawrence runs the rhetoric gambit to convince the dumb fuck that things are still actually pretty okay compared to what they could be, and tells Romeo to go knock boots with his wife – he'll take care of everything.   Afterwards, Juliet has a good bit where she can't tell a lark from a nightingale, and the lovers get another chance to get all gooey-faced as they say goodbye.  The Capulets come in to tell Juliet that she's getting married in two days to cheer everybody up, and when Juliet refuses, her father acts like a major asshole, declaring he'll give her to his friend if he wants to.  Juliet plans to go and see Friar Lawrence and see if he can work something out. End of Act Three.

Juliet runs into Paris at Friar Lawrence's cell, which makes for a very awkward conversation with tricky pronouns ("Do not deny to him that you love me." "I will confess to you that I love him" etc.) Paris leaves, and Juliet claims that she will, she like, totally will, stab herself if Friar Lawrence doesn't fix this whole thing? And soon? Because she's super serious and Paris was in a sex video and just totally lay there not doing anything, which is NOT what you'd want in a husband.  Friar Lawrence tells her not to worry her pretty little head, so long as she agrees to take some rohypnal and knock herself seeming dead for a bit.  He'll drop a note to Romeo, who'll spring her from the lamest Tales from the Crypt episode ever, and they can run away together and make naughty videos way better than the one Paris was in.  Juliet goes home and drinks the roofies.  End of Act Four.

Meanwhile, Romeo's moping around Mantua when his boy-toy Balthazar shows up with really bad news – Juliet's dead.  "Dead!?!" shrieks Romeo.  "I am so not into dead chicks! Now I have to kill myself!"  And off he goes to the supposedly immoral Apothecary (who for the record, does not go out doling roofies to fourteen year old girls, unlike *some* men of the cloth) to buy some poison.  Paris and his page decide to go crypt-spelunking, and they encounter Romeo and Balthazar trying to do the same thing.  Of course a fight ensues, and Paris is stabbed because he starred in a reality TV show making fun of people in Appalachia instead of going to college.  Romeo gets all mushy over Juliet's corpse and downs his nasty beverage, dying instantly.  Friar Lawrence, looking for weapons of mass destruction, barges in just as Juliet wakes up.  The international community is outraged, so Friar Lawrence just babbles something about a leaked memo and runs away.  Juliet looks down at her dead mate and stabs herself, figuring that there's really no point living in a world after sleeping with her dead cousin for two days.  Finis.

iCouldnt help myself

It seduced me with its slim hips and casual, no-nonsense demeanor.   I blame the liquor.

Better than Viagra

Rest in Peace: Ben Kerr

For those Hogtown natives frequenting one of the busiest corners of the city, Ben Kerr was a comfort, an old man with a microphone and a melodic croon dedicated to serenading the people of Toronto with his renditions of Neil Young and Stompin' Tom.  "Smile, beautiful," he'd tell any woman who walked past. "It's a lovely day and so are you." Every civic election, he ran for mayor, usually taking a healthy chunk of the popular vote, even when Enza Supermodel Anderson was running.  Ben's cheerful, ubiquitous presence at the corner of Yonge and Bloor added a charming, small-town element to Toronto that will be dearly missed and always fondly remembered.  He was indeed, better than Viagra.